


All In Your Head

by wefellasangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Monster of the Week, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:54:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wefellasangels/pseuds/wefellasangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean have a new case - and it's you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> requested by @fangirlbillie on tumblr: "you have all these issue with your head the doctors say you either have a Tumor or rare brain disease but you know your being posessed and Sam and dean come to the rescue"

The lights on the ceiling come and go, come and go, come and go in a blur as they wheel you to the emergency room on a stretcher.

“I’m not sick!” you yell as you fight against the restraints they’ve place on your wrists and ankles. “I’m NOT SICK!”

The stretcher pushes through a last set of double doors and the brakes are set down. Several doctors rush around you, exchanging numbers you don’t understand and words you didn’t think were real.

“No….no, STOP!” you protest as one doctor attempts to sedate you.

“This will help!” she says. “We are trying to help!”

“This isn’t the type of help I _need_!”

The doctor gives you a sympathetic look and prepares to sedate you. But before the needle reaches its destination, you black out.

…

“Five?”

“Yeah.”

“This patient took on _five_ doctors? _Alone_?”

“Do you need me to say it in Spanish for you, Dean?”

Dean rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the road. They had been driving for the better part of the day, watching the sun take a slow swan dive from its position in the sky at noon. It was now dark, the headlights of the Impala creating the only source of light.   

“I just don’t know about this one, Sam. I’m mean it’s crazy, just not _our_ type of crazy. Person probably just Hulked-out on their meds or something.”

Sam shifts in his seat slightly to better face his brother. “See…at first I thought the same thing. But get this: the patient wasn’t even on meds. They had just been recently diagnosed, so the doctors haven’t even begun treatment yet.”

“What were they diagnosed with?” Dean asks, his interest peaked.

“Dunno,” Sam says, thinking back to the article he read earlier. “The paper didn’t say.”

Dean nods thoughtfully. “Well, what’s the patient saying?”

…

“I, uh…I don’t really remember anything,” you tell the cops. The two of them stand by the side of your hospital bed. One has a notepad and doesn’t speak, while his partner asks the questions.

“Tell us what you do remember.”

You break eye contact for a moment, trying to collect the fragments of your memory.

“Well…for the past few weeks – or months, actually – I’ve been having blackouts. A lot of times, there are several hours I can’t account for. Like, I’ll remember being at home, in my kitchen, one moment – and next thing I know, I come to on the other side of town – ” Your voice breaks on the last word, fear, confusion, and uncertainty forming a lump in your throat.

“Anything else?”

You nod, taking a deep breath before you continue. “Sometimes I, um...Sometimes I wake up during the blackouts and…I can _feel_ my body moving, but it’s _not me_ controlling it.”

The cop nods his head and turns to his partner, making sure he’s writing everything down.

“Once you realized what was happening, what did you do?”

“Um…a friend of mine suggested that I see a doctor.”

“And that’s what you did?”

“Yeah. After I told him everything I just told you, he ran some scans. And he –“ You give a short, empty laugh. “He told me I was sick. That I had some kind of brain disease. That my frontal cortex and hippocampus and whatever, were deformed…”

“You don’t believe him?”

You shake your head stiffly back and forth. “No, I don’t. Now…I _know_ what happened. I know what’s happening to me.”

“What?”

“I’m being possessed.”

The cops exchange a look and the one with the notebook speaks for the first time. “Possessed? Really?”

You nod imploringly. “Yes! Look…I-I’m not crazy, okay? I know how it sounds. But I,” your voice drops to a whisper. “I heard about the things I did. About attacking the receptionist and then the doctors in the emergency room. But it wasn’t me! I hardly remember anything! And the parts that _do_ come back to me…I wasn’t in control.”

The officers look at each other one more time. “Okay…here’s the thing,” the talker begins. “You’re up against several charges right now, but given your current state –“

“No…no, no, no –“

“You might not even have to face trial, especially if they find that you have Dissociative Identity Disorder, or have some kind of disease…but we’ll see how things go. Just take your medication- “

“But I’m not sick! This isn’t a brain thing – I’m being possessed!”

“Listen –“

“No!” A blind rage takes over and you unhook yourself from the various machines. The officers are yelling, trying to restrain you, but to no avail. Once you have freed yourself, you slide off the hospital bed and take off running, leaving the pair of officers behind, shocked.

…

“Can’t believe they shut down the entire hospital,” Sam says quietly, tightening his grip on Ruby’s knife.

Dean scoffs, “Right? Like they can’t handle one – hold up.” Dean puts a hand up and they both stop in their tracks.

The brothers spent the entire day interviewing friends, neighbors, and local law enforcement, casing all the crime scenes, and reading the patient’s personal statement. With the sudden changes in behavior that people described, the sulfur left at all the scenes, and the patient’s own account of the experience, Sam and Dean had no doubt that that they had a demon problem on their hands.

After hearing about the incident with the cops earlier and the subsequent shut down of the hospital, the brothers figured it was time to move in. And now here they were at the hospital in the middle of the night.

Sam and Dean wait, listening. After a few seconds, they hear a small crash and move quickly in that direction. The noise continues and they follow it to the mess hall.

…

You drop another item of food as you make your way from the kitchen to the mess hall. You spot a nearby table and head towards it. You set the food down on the table-top, but before you can sit down, two men burst through the doors, one holding a knife, the other a gun.

“Don’t move!” the one with the gun instructs, pointing his weapon at you. Your eyes widen and you put your hands up in surrender.

“Did they send you to kill me?” you ask, apprehensive.

“No one _sent_ us,” the man with the knife says. “We’re here to help you.”

Confusion plays across your face as you watch the first man lower his gun. “You think you’re possessed, right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, well we think you’re right.”

…

“Okay, we’re gonna get you through this as quickly as possible, alright?” the one with the knife reassures you.

You learned that his name is Sam and that the other one is Dean. And, most importantly, you learned that they don’t think you’re crazy.

“Thank you,” you say. Sam smiles and gives you a small nod. The two of them have drawn something – a demon trap, you think you heard them say – on the floor and now you stand in the center of it. They said it would keep the demon from getting away if it decided to take back control.

“Alright,” Dean says, clapping his hands together once. “Let’s get this show on the road. Sam.”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion…” Sam trails off, his forehead creased as he looks at you, confused.

“Is it gone?” you ask. “Did it work?”

“Sam…nothing’s happening,” Dean comments, worried. “Shouldn’t the demon be, you know, freaking out by now?”

“Yeah. Should be,” Sam agrees curtly. “Huh…”

Dean walks over to a duffle-bag sitting on one of the tables. He pulls out a flask and walks back over to you. He twists the cap off and douses you with water. Nothing happens.

“What the hell?” Dean complains.

And then you black out.

…

The brothers watch as the patient’s eyes begin glowing a bright blue.

“Dammit!” Dean curses.

“(S)he’s possessed by an angel!”

“Yeah, thanks for the update, Anderson Cooper!” Dean snaps at his little brother. “Now what?”

The possessed patient smiles. “Winchesters…long time no see. Thought you might show up after catching a whiff of this case.” The angel begins to advance on the boys, its blade appearing in hand, the air of revenge potent and tangible.

Sam and Dean begin backing away, both thinking rapidly about how they could possibly save the vessel.

“Dean?” Sam asks, his voice trembling with worry. “Dean, how are we –“

Dean suddenly stops his retreat as an almost-lost memory suddenly comes to mind. Seeing no other options, Dean takes a chance and begins reciting:  “Omni potentis Dei potestatem invoco, omni potentis Dei potestatem invoco, abrogo terra…”

The angel stops its advance, surprise and anger lining its face. “What do you think you’re doing?” it hisses. “Mud-monkey….”

“…hoc angelorum in obse quentum, Domine expuere, Domine expuere, unde abeo Dei per...” As Dean continues the exorcism, the patient’s eyes and mouth start to exude the bright blue light. The incantation comes to a close and the angel is expelled from the vessel in white explosion and shot back to Heaven.

Dean exhales in relief, grateful that he remembered the exorcism correctly. Sam rushes over to the patient, who has fallen down.

…

“Hey, hey – are you alright?” Sam asks as he supports you in his arms.

You nod weakly and say, almost inaudibly, “Thank you…thank you so much…”

Sam smiles. “Yeah, sure – you’re welcome.”

Dean walks over to the two of you and takes a knee. You start to swim in and out of consciousness, but catch bits of their conversation.

“…you get that exorcism from?”

“…and Alistair…”

“…”

“Uriel…?”

“….like him. But what I don’t get…”

“…fighting with demons. Maybe…”

And then you finally fall into a sleep that is all your own.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
